When In Doubt
by BoukieToo
Summary: ...write a ton of Avengers drabbles. Shorts with fun, humor, fluff, you get the picture. Suggestions are appreciated, but only the Avengers from the first movie, please. Also, minor swearing may occur, as well as minor violence.
1. A Whole New World

**I was in a fanfiction class writing "What if?"s, and this popped up. Why did I not look into this sooner?**

Steve was starting to hate modern times.

There was different, almost inappropriate fashion, slang, and technology. Just because he was from the 40's, he couldn't handle a smartphone. He did his best to catch up, but the entire idea of the "Internet" simply made his head spin. So, he decided, I'll just ask Tony about websites.

Steve soon realized that he should never, under any circumstance, ask Tony Stark about technology. Interrupting his incessant talk about "memes", and "GIFs", Steve asked, "Yes, but is there anything for books on the Internet?" He had decided on literature, for it would at least give him something that he could comprehend.

"Oh, several," Tony replied casually. "There's GoodReads, and Bookbub, and Fan-" Suddenly, a wicked smirk crept up the inventor's face, his eyes turning devilish. "-and Fanfiction. Cap, you and I are going on a field trip into the Internet!" With that, he hooked his arm through the captain's, and dragged him off to his lab.

The lab seemed to have been ransacked, and gizmos littered the floor, covered with technicolor stains. Steve did his best not to trip, but it was practically impossible. Finally stumbling to the center of the room, Tony freed his arm from Steve's, put up a separate screen, and opened the site.

"Now Steve, it's time for a little vocabulary lesson," Tony began. "The term 'ship' as a noun refers to a couple a person wants to pair together romantically. As a verb, it means to pair that couple, such as, 'I ship Tony and Pepper'. People aren't really over us breaking up yet. Usually, there is a name for a ship, such as Pepperony, the ship of myself and Pepper. 'Canon' refers to the original plot line, setting, etc. of a story, movie, etc. 'OOC'..." Tony continued, naming all of terms he could remember off the top of his head, with the captain struggling to cram it all in his memory.

"These writers are a bit twisted at times. The fact that FrostIron exists, to me, is frankly disturbing."

"FrostIron?"

"The ship between myself, and- and- Loki."

Steve turned a beet red, and didn't seem to know whether to laugh, comfort Tony, or run out of the room. The poor man was so confused that as he took a step backwards, he slipped on a scrap of metal, landing on the floor with a loud thump. The inventor paused, taking in the scene, then burst into a fit of laughter, causing Steve to feel a tad humiliated as well as bemused.

"But that's just the beginning!" Tony exclaimed, helping the confused Capsicle up from the ground.

"You haven't seen Stony yet."

"Do I want to know?"

"Um... not really, but I want to see the look on your face when you read a Stony fic. Just search it here, and click on a random story."

So maybe showing Steve Stony wasn't the best idea in the world, but it sure was **hilarious.** Tony made sure to collect the security feed from JARVIS afterwards, kept it with his safest files, and backed-up his back-ups of it. When Steve had chosen a story, his expression was only apprehensive, but it had quickly changed to confusion, disgust, and utter embarrassment, while Tony had practically died from laughter. The captain had promptly fled from the lab, and wouldn't speak to the billionaire for a few days afterward. When Steve finally did make conversation with him, it was very carefully, and Tony noticed that Steve wouldn't so much as touch modern technology from then on.

 **So, there you have the first chapter! There will be plenty more where that came from.**

 **-Boukietoo**


	2. In Good Hands

**Chapter Two: In Good Hands**

Phil Coulson watched the news feeds from his bed in the medical section of the SHIELD Helicarrier.

While he didn't appreciate the fact that Fury had lied to the Avengers about his "death", he had a grudging respect for the director, as the heroes now worked perfectly as a team, united by a common goal. He sighed contentedly, watching as Thor and the Hulk stood back-to-back, creating a mass circle of destruction. Steve and Natasha fought on the streets, blocking any threat to the other, and clearing the area of civilians. Tony and Clint shot at the skies, and in Tony's case, from the skies, taking down Chitauri left, right, and center. Phil was impressed at how easily Agents Romanoff and Barton had been fooled. Maybe they had hearts, after all.

His thoughts were interrupted by Maria Hill rushing in.

"Coulson!" she exclaimed, rushing to his bedside. "The Council's just launched a missile at New York." "Nuclear?" he asked, dreading the answer. "No, it's not nuclear. That's why I came panicking to you," she snapped sarcastically, letting out a sigh of frustration.

Coulson thought for a moment.

"I don't know, Maria. Have Fury call Stark, he'll think of something. At least, I hope so."

Maria looked shocked. "Our last hope is Tony Stark?!" she screeched.

"That's all I can think of, Maria. I'm sorry." Phil turned away from the screens, and towards the window, where the sunlight was fading, obscured by tumbling, clumsy clouds. He hoped desperately that he was wrong, that there was another way. If Stark held thousands of lives in his metal-encased hands, Phil, as far away as he was, desperately feared whatever would happen next.


	3. Just a Rough Draft

**Umm… I have no explanation. None for the immense time gap, or for this idea. It's a method for my madness.**

 **~BoukieToo**

 _Steve was having a perfect day, that is until he was attacked by a manic robot._

He glanced down at his ruined shirt to discover something else. The thing had sloshed his hot chocolate over the sketch he had been working on, too. He didn't even know how the little bot had managed to reach the roof in the first place, but he assumed it was just Tony being careless again. Sighing at the incoming footsteps, the captain retreated to the kitchen to wash off, shaking off a sparking Dummy.

The two resident scientists stumbled and grumbled their way into the room, grabbing coffee as they went. Tony trod over to the robot, deftly rewiring in a manner which shouldn't have been possible in his sleep-deprived state.

"Sorry for the scare, Cap," he grunted, finding a place between Bruce and Steve. "Updates didn't go as planned. They never do, with Dummy."

"It's fine." Steve waved him off, finishing of the remainder of untouched hot chocolate. "It just spilled on my sketch, that's all."

"I didn't know you liked to draw," Bruce piped up. "May we see it?"

"Ah, it's not much, just a rough draft," the artist mumbled, scratching his neck embarrassedly with one hand, and closing the sketchbook with the other.

"Come on, pleeeaaaassse?" Tony wheeled, widening his eyes and craning his neck to catch a glimpse of the cover. "Fine," Steve sighed, flipping to the correct page, and thinking that it was too early in the morning to argue with anybody just yet.

The picture depicted their living room, or at least the center of it. Thor was seated directly in the middle of the couch (and the picture), his muscly bulk taking up at least another space, holding the wrong end of a TV remote with a dumbfounded look on his face. Loki—devoid of armor—sat to the left of him, exasperatedly pointing to the other hand or as best he could, for both hands were shackled, and a muzzle adorned his features. Clint was hanging bat-style from a vent just above Loki's head, aiming an arrow at his skull. A gun was pressed to his own however, and just behind Thor stood Natasha, using her free hand to point another gun at Tony's head. The inventor, unfazed by the metal pressure, was animatedly talking science with Bruce, and winking at Pepper, who stood in the doorway over Bruce's shoulder. The other genius was radiating with an almost nervous excitement, and holding a bag of blueberries in his left hand. On the right-hand end of the couch lounged Steve himself, usual sketchbook in hand, right below and between the two scientists. Together, the seven figures looked like one dysfunctional family.

 **(If anybody can draw this, please do and show me. I made this up entirely, but I cannot draw worth a half-rusted penny.)**

The picture was eerily accurate—as any picture would have to be in order to fascinate the viewer in such a fashion—and both inventors gaped in awe of the "rough draft".

"Its magnificent," Bruce breathed, reaching for but not touching the masterpiece.

"What inspired you to put Reindeer Games in?" Tony asked, still staring, and stock-still.

"Well, he was kind of the one who brought us all together," Cap began, and when he was met with confused-but-intrigued looks, he elaborated, "Well, we wouldn't have met each other in that way, or have become a team, or have come to live in the tower if it weren't for him. And anyways, I can't ever think about Thor without thinking about Loki, and vice versa. Whether they acknowledge it or not, I like to think they were a good team, blood brothers or no."

The others seemed satisfied, that is until Dummy snatched up the paper, and pinned it to the community fridge, next to the magnet reading "Fridge Guardians Unite!"

"Despite his faults, this is why I still keep that batch of bolts around," Tony sighed fondly, stroking the robot absentmindedly. "He does the right thing sometimes, even without knowing it. Especially without _us_ knowing it."

Steve had been having a perfect day. But now, with two of his closest friends, it was not perfect, but something much better.


	4. Sayeth Whaaaat?

**Sayeth Whaaaaat?**

 **To my reviewer:**

 **Thank you so much for taking the time to read my stories. My art suggestion is to find an art site (DeviantArt or something), post the picture there, and send me the link. I really appreciate the reviews. Also, I will write a Halloween fic. Thanks for the recommendation!**

Shortly following the Dummy incident, Steve had set to work on completing his one-of-a-kind family sketch. It was now laminated, and taped to the "Fridge Hall of Fame", as it had been dubbed. Various photographs and souvenirs had been added, and soon the entire fridge would be covered.

The artist in question sighed happily, joined by his comrades, who were idly chatting on the roof, and watching the twilight grow ever darker. Thor had been able to take a small break from the grand halls of Asgard, and had brought Jane with him. Even though Tony had insisted, Pepper still had work to do, and couldn't come to the impromptu hangout session. Everybody else was either sprawled on the floor, or had brought chairs to watch the display. Tony had wanted to do fireworks, but everybody objected, remembering last time.

" _-And I've got a surprise for us tonight!" Tony announced, spreading his arms out wide in front of his friends. "Take cover," Clint joked. "When he says 'surprise', he means 'surprise'." Everybody gave a small chuckle, with Natasha remarking, "Spare us the theatrics. What is it?" "FIREWORKS!" Around the billionaire, small, bright streams of pyrotechnics shot into the sky above them._

 _The display was initially breathtaking, with intricate spirals of white sparks that exploded into multi-colored images. First, Mjolnir, a bow & arrow set, and a spider emerged, followed by a life-size Hulk, a patriotic shield, and the unmistakable Iron Man faceplate. The six images glittered, but instead of dissipating, they hung in the sky as though pinned there._

 _In reflection, that should have been the warning sign. Tony's face was filled with shock, and disappointment. "Wow," he remarked intelligently after a hawkward silence. "Um… well, it was supposed to-"_

 _The fireworks detonated, sending white-hot beams of fire in every direction. "ACTUALLY TAKE COVER!" screamed the archer, scrambling behind his chair. The others promptly followed suit, with various noises of response. Nobody could tell whom, but somebody let out an undignified squeal. Not even JARVIS (allegedly) could tell Tony later._

 _Nobody was injured, but one lawn chair was set ablaze, and so ended Tony's love of extravagant pyrotechnics._

"Are you sure?" the former pyromaniac asked, setting his gaze on the brightening New York skyline. "They were pretty cool-" "NO, TONY."

The moment was interrupted by a rendition of the Pirates of the Caribbean theme song coming from Steve's pocket. The man sighed, glaring pointedly at Tony, who looked sheepishly innocent, shrugging. When Stark looked away, he was met with a disapproving look from Bruce, whom he faced with a guilty air and a fresh bag of blueberries.

Meanwhile, Steve had picked up the phone, a hard look crossing over his gentle features. "Fury wants you to open the door, Stark."

"Really?" Tony snorted in blatant disbelief. "He's asking?"

Just then, JARVIS' speaker was overridden by an all-too-familiar voice, blaring, "No. You need to up your security, Stark." Tony just sighed. This was the third time that SHIELD was able to breach his Tower; now he just rolled with it. "I thought not," he muttered, gesturing the assembled team and guests into the meeting room.

Everybody eventually settled down; the only exception being Tony's blueberries, which had somehow managed to spill everywhere in the movement. Fury did not begin with words, but instead casually pulled up one of Tony's screens, and pulled up a digital file, ignoring the billionaire's protests.

"Mr. Rogers died in war before his son was born, was born in Brooklyn himself, and married Mrs. Rogers. Mrs. Rogers was born just outside of Toronto in Ontario, Canada. Mrs. Rogers died as well, fourteen years after giving birth to her only son, Steven Rogers."

"With all due respect, sir," the captain said quietly, "I know. Anybody who reads my file knows. What do you need us for?"

"Just a bit of information that I think you'd like to know," Fury answered mysteriously, as was his way. All around, the only looks were bemused ones, and it took all the director had not to grin at their utterly dumbfounded expressions. Instead, he continued, "Tell me, Rogers, do you know anything about your parents before you besides what's on that file?"

Now that Steve thought about it, he didn't. "No," he answered slowly. "Is there something I should?" "Yes, actually. You see-"

"Hold up," Tony interrupted, gesticulating to emphasize. "We're gonna learn about Cap's childhood? Come to think of it, I don't know anything about your pre-serum years except for the military."

The others all nodded in agreement, except for Nick, who glared at them before continuing. "As I was saying, Mr. and Mrs. Rogers met and married in Toronto. When Mr. Rogers went off to war, his wife stayed behind. Steven Grant Rogers was born in the Mount Sinai Hospital in Toronto. What was left of the Rogers family moved back to America two months later."

Dead silence met these words. Everybody had either a stunned or confused (Thor) look on his or her face. The silence was broken by—of course—Tony, who burst out laughing.

"CAPTAIN AMERICA IS _CANADIAN_!" he howled, clutching his sides and falling to the floor in a very Tony-esque manner. He was soon joined by Clint, and both had tears in their mirthful eyes. Bruce himself couldn't help but give a small chuckle at the irony, and Natasha smirked slightly. Thor finally realized the joke, and sat down, letting out a bark of laughter. Poor Steve looked rather embarrassed, and was comforted by a still-giggling billionaire.

"It's- it's okay, Cap," he hiccupped, throwing his arm around the super-soldier. "You'll just have to bear tons of my bad jokes, that's all." Steve did not look too happy at that, but he sat there, looking tired, while the laughter of the Avengers shook the entire Tower.


	5. Attack of the Zombie Fangirls

**Attack of the Zombie-Fangirls**

 **(It was an English assignment, don't kill me!)**

 _Looking back on the incident, the embarrassed team felt more déjà vu than horror, but in the moment, it had been terrifying._

It was a few hours before sunset on Halloween, one of the toughest days of the year. While the Avengers could always swap suits for their costumes (which they did), the long line of fangirls/boys outside of the Tower was a struggle every year. This also meant no trick-or-treating, something Steve had been looking forward to.

"I mean," he babbled while the rest totally ignored him, "I never got to do this as a kid. There wasn't enough time, money, or candy. Oh well."

"You're not missing that much, Spangles," Tony dismissed. "Not anything that I don't have more of, in a less-crowded space, in any case."

Again ignoring the captain's lecture, he popped a kernel of candy corn into his mouth. Everybody rolled their eyes at his antics, and headed for the door.

Steve was looking a tad uncomfortable, for he was wearing Thor's armor—which was rather heavy, and lugging a fake Mjolnir. Thor himself had stretched Clint's archer outfit a tad, but wore the look well, if not without breaking an arrow or two first. Hawkeye had decided to take Natasha's uniform, in which he was now grinning slyly at anybody who happened to look his way. Nat had opted for the good doctor's plain shirt and dark purple slacks, for she couldn't exactly "Hulk out". Bruce was observing comfortably in the Iron Man suit, for both he and Tony had a rather small stature. Speaking of the billionaire, he was desperately trying not to squeal with giddiness, because he was in Cap's own suit, and he would _not_ fangirl, dang it.

All in all, the team looked kind of odd (with the exception of Bruce), but endearing. Together they noshed on candy, made jokes, and glanced out of the window, down into the empty-for-now streets. It was the most peace they would get that night, that's for sure.

The relaxation ended when JARVIS announced, "Sir, there is an unknown presence in front of the Tower." "All right, you heard the AI," Clint announced blithely. "Fun's over." They _had_ been expecting a horde of fangirls, and they were not disappointed. They were there, all right, but something seemed off about them. They stepped closer. Thor noticed a note taped to the door. Reading it aloud, he said, "On all Hallows' Eve, strange things you can achieve. Best of luck (you'll need it), Loptr."

It was written in a small, cursive hand, making it a tad difficult to read. Thor's curious face contorted into one of confusion.

"Loptr," he mused. "I have heard this name before, I know it." He had, he was sure of it. It was just on the tip of his tongue when the first fan hit the glass doors.

It was now evident why exactly the people had looked different than usual. Their heads lolled and bobbed as they staggered zombie-style to the Tower, and when they reached the entrance, the doors quaked as they banged on them.

The team was now seriously starting to get freaked out. Wails could be heard, screeching, "Can I have a kiss!" "Can you sign my shirt?" "Where's the Hulk?" "Can you sign my poster?" "Will you marry me?" "I got you a present!" "Where's Loki?" "Can I see Asgard?"

It was overwhelming, to say the least, not only because of their creepy gait, but just from the sheer size of the crowd. There was traffic trouble for two blocks, and the blaring of car horns could be distinguished in the distance.

"What happened to them?" Clint wondered, stepping towards the doors. "They're harmless, from what I can tell, just a bit slower-"

"CLINT, NO!" they screamed, but it was too late. The doors flew open, nearly shattering when they hit the walls, and the horde piled in, flooding the lobby and drowning its occupants. Before any of them had time to run, several clammy hands grabbed them, pulling at their shirts, and almost climbing on top of the smaller victims.

"Retreat!" Steve cried, or tried to cry, for his voice was nearly drowned by the crowd. Feeling only slightly guilty, he wriggled out from the fangirls, lightly shoving his way to the elevator, which thankfully stood closed and empty. Unfortunately for the poor captain, the throng had formed a human wall, blocking all exits. For the most part, the team came to realize, these people were as harmless as Clint had thought, if quite a bit pushy. Oh, how Nat still wanted to stun a few of the more annoying fanatics with her Widow's Bites, but these were civilians, after all. Shame.

The tumult quickly died down to an eerie silence, however, when a small _ding!_ was heard from the elevator. As the doors opened, the only person who could order anybody around stepped out: the famous Virginia (Pepper) Potts. Everybody froze, Tony looking more than a bit panicked at what the CEO had walked into.

"Sooooo…" he trailed off in the best casual voice he could muster, for he had already faced the wrath of Ms. Potts in a mood more than once, and there was nothing more terrifying. " … hi, Pep. Need something?"

She closed her eyes, praying to every god she could think of for serenity and patience. "An explanation would be nice," she stated, looking creepily calm, which only scared the team more.

"Um… we-kinda-sorta-let-a-ton-of-rabid-fangirl-zombies-into-the-Tower," the quaking billionaire recited rapidly, breaking eye contact and gazing at a point just above Pepper's left shoulder. "I see," she continued, still looking composed as ever. "Well, they just need to leave now, right? And I trust you can do it without destroying the Tower?" "Uh- yeah, I guess- sorry, Pep." "Then I don't need to worry about it. Also, you're paying for my next dinner. Good night, Tony!"

Tony spluttered, "H-hey! You're leaving us with _them?_ " "I'm sure you'll be fine." And with that statement, the CEO of Stark Industries left the Tower, the assembled citizens parting for her in awe. Instantly, they filed out through the open doors, leaving the place as if nothing had happened.

"Okay, anybody know what that was about?" asked Bruce wearily, sinking into one of the recently-overturned chairs. "I nearly went green. You know how I hate crowded spaces." Thor suddenly turned pale. "What is it, Point Break?" Tony enquired, picking trampled love notes off of various surfaces.

"I recognize that name," the resident thunder god rumbled. "Loptr was the false name we used for Loki when he disguised himself, especially on All Hallows' Eve." The team looked up at that, then back at the note Thor clutched in his meaty hands. Only then did they realize there was a back. Flipping it over, Thor read, "I did tell you I had an army, did I not? Long live the king."


	6. MLG No

Chapter Six: MLG No

 **(I own nothing. Not Marvel, not Shrek, not Illuminati, not Mountain Dew, not 360 no-scope, not Doritos, not Sonic/Sanic, not Doge, not Shia LaBeouf, and not JOHN CENA.) Also, this was at first my friend FabulousFerret's idea. Thanks!**

 _If Steve had known what he would be awaking to, he would've slept in._

His peaceful silence was rudely interrupted by the blaring shriek of an air horn.

"WHA-?" he shouted, a mix between a yell and a question spewing out of his recently-not-functioning mouth. The horrid sound continued to blast as Iron Man screeched into view, holding the offensive object that caused Steve to suffer.

"Happy MLG Pro Day!" he announced over the ruckus, and zoomed out Steve's door, which flew open and fell off its hinges. The captain sat up to ask what on (or off) Earth was going on when a rubber-tipped arrow was shot at his forehead, and stuck there. He stared at it, dumbfounded, while Clint dropped from his place in the air vents and screamed, "HEADSHOT! 360 NO-SCOPE!"

"What? Clint, what's-" Steve walked out of his bedroom doorway only to be assaulted by the air horn—only this time, it came from afar. He followed the noise to find pandemonium in the kitchen and living room.

Thor was parading about with a giant bag of Doritos in hand, and one of those cheap "cup-holder hats" that held a bottle of Mountain Dew on either side of his head. On top of the hat, the thunder god was donning a crown of flowers. **(Not technically MLG Pro, but it's how I imagine it.)** He was using the other hand to throw the chips throughout the room, as though he was a flower girl.

Natasha was calmly sitting on top of the refrigerator, snagging the chips deftly, and doing something to them before throwing them back. Upon closer inspection, she was drawing eyes in the center, and inscribing "Illuminati Confirmed" underneath the symbols with a sharpie. When she returned them to the air, Clint caught them, and proceeded to play darts with Doritos.

Right in the center of it all, the Hulk towered intimidatingly—that is, he _would_ have been intimidating if he hadn't been sporting ogre ears. Tony zoomed past, air horn in hand, and landed on the jolly green giant's shoulder, sunglasses adorning his faceplate. He held up a sign that read, _U mad bro?_

Steve was about to tell the suit of armor exactly how mad he was when the air horn was suddenly silenced, only to be replaced with ear-splitting music.

 _ **GOGOGOGOGOGOGOGOGOGO, GOGOGOGOGOGOGOGO- GOTTA GO FAST!**_

The poor captain crumpled, hands occupied with his pounding ears, and mouth open in a silent scream of agonized horror and confused frustration. He finally looked up to see a blue blur streaking throughout the room, intercepting (and devouring) chip-projectiles, knocking the sunglasses off of Tony, and causing general chaos. The figure finally zipped away with a parting _MLG Pro Day: Loki'd_ spraypainted on Hulk's chest. **(I was originally going to say, "-like a banner-" but then realized the unintended pun, and decided to spare you the agony.)**

Meanwhile, the Sonic theme song still blasted from the overhead speakers, strategically placed around the room so that no corner or refuge was safe. The Captain had adapted enough to the noise that he could remove his hands from his ears, and attempt to take out the music. The key word there was "attempt", for when Steve reached to retrieve his shield, something else was in its place.

It was identical to his shield shape-wise, but that was where the similarities ended. The originally red-white-and-blue circle of metal was now painted with the face of a dog of some sort. Said dog had a weird expression on its face, and was surrounded by technicolor phrases in Comic Sans.

"' _such shield', 'very america', 'much wow'_ ," the owner of said shield read. He wasn't sure if it was even the same shield. He decided throwing it at the speakers would be an excellent test.

It did absolutely nothing.

Judging by the looks on the team's faces, they weren't in on this part of the prank. Inwardly, Steve shrugged. _Serves them right,_ he thought with an outward grin towards his friends. _They can suffer with me._

Ever since the music had begun to play, Tony had been pulling desperately at the seemingly-locked doors. Eventually, the others began to take this course of action as well. Clint couldn't even get into the vents, and nobody wanted to use the Hulk. Finally, after several failed attempts, an elevator door opened, and none other than Nicholas Fury strode out in all of his trench-coat-ed glory. Following him (in referee outfits) were Phil and Maria, each with a microphone. The dreaded music finally died down.

"Lady and gentlemen, immature playboys and patriotic captains, please give it up for our champion wrestler…" Hill announced, a regretless grin plastered on her face.

"AND HIS NAME IS NICK FURY!" Phil screamed into the microphone, nearly breaking the speakers. Once again, crippling noise blasted in place of all other sounds, and this time Steve couldn't even place it. (He was still sure that that many trumpets playing was definitely a sin.) Oh well. The (relative) quiet was fun while it lasted.

Looking back at the director, Steve realized that his ever-present trench coat had vanished, revealing a wrestling outfit. Still appearing extremely intimidating, Nick raised his arms in the air, looking around while the music subsided and various SHIELD agents applauded and cheered from the elevator.

Finally, Coulson picked up the coat, giving the sacred object back to its owner, who demanded, "Agent Coulson, get me my coffee."

"But sir-" Phil objected, only to be cut off.

"Just… DO IT! JUST DO IT!"

The Avengers and agents shrank back from this outburst.

"DON'T LET MY CUP BE EMPTY!" Here, the man drew out a mug from that coat of his. _How in the world did he hide that in his jacket?_ Steve questioned internally. He supposed that would have to wait, for the director was ranting again.

"YESTERDAY, YOU SAID YOU WOULD MAKE IT TOMORROW! JUST…"

Nicholas approached the elevator, stepping in and tossing the cup to Phil, who caught it.

"Just do it."

The agents scrambled in after him, leaving the various Avengers to make equally various excuses, and exit rapidly.

Steve, standing alone in the middle of the living room, sighed. It was just another morning with his family.


	7. Job Well Done

Coming in from each mission was the greatest part of Tony's day.

It wasn't that he didn't love the awesome feeling of zipping around, breaking the sound barrier (he did, and would never deny it); it was the amazing feeling of a hot shower, a soft pair of sweatpants and a steaming mug of his life-giving sustenance that really couldn't be beat. He had proudly attested to this on many occasions, and was never met with more opposition than a shake of the head, or an exasperated sigh.

So it was that on that particular Wednesday afternoon, Tony was simply itching to spend a few hours—wait, make that a few days—in the lab, and was often distracted from the current enemies he was facing.

"Stark!" Steve cried, as Tony's leg was snagged by one of the endless brutes swarming the team. It was a careless mistake that only proved further that his mind was definitely elsewhere.

"Sorry, Spangles," he replied, freeing himself with a small burst of light, blinding the man who stumbled back, and knocked over a few of his friends in the process. _Strike,_ he thought. _Ten down, and ten thousand more to go._

"You really need to pay more attention," the captain admonished through the comm. "To the bodily threat or mental one?" Steve rolled his eyes, slinging his shield across the warehouse like a university student tossing a Frisbee. For some reason, Tony found the simile amusing to picture.

"Girls, girls, you're both pretty," Clint chided from his post, where he was systematically sniping thug after thug. "Now, could you keep your catfight off the comms so"—an explosion burst through their earpieces, causing Steve to wince, rubbing at his enhanced ears—"that the rest of us can hear ourselves think?"

Radio silence ensued, save some grunting [read: Tony's grumbling] and other sound effects that came with the fighting. The team had worked together for such a long time that there was hardly any need for communication, but one was always better safe than sorry, and Fury would lose it if they didn't wear the comms.

Bruce had opted to stay back at the Tower, and Thor was handling things in Asgard, so it was down to the other four to contain this infinite swell of human mass.

Finally, after several hours of methodically picking off baddies, they reached the last handful. A few ran panicking towards the only exit to find the frightful visage of a petite redhead, smiling sweetly, stun batons at the ready. The poor men didn't stand a chance, and went down easily.

"Right," Steve began, making eye contact with one of the few men left. "You might want to start talking." The man was quivering—the captain supposed it was out of fear—and hesitantly opened his mouth.

"H… ha-"

"Spit it out, buddy. We don't have all day," Tony interjected after several failed attempts to form a coherent answer. To himself, he muttered, "Should've brought in the Jolly Green Giant."

"H-hail… Hydra," the man whispered. It was just as he spoke that Steve noticed the blinking light on the captive's chest, just in time to see it stop and turn solid red.

Eyes widening, he let out a yell of warning, and leapt away as the room exploded with the twice force of Thor's hammer hitting Cap's shield. Unfortunately, none of the people in the room, heroes or thugs, found a structure to hide behind, and all were blasted into the walls with resounding _crack_ s. Steve's vision swam and settled swiftly into darkness.

 **When In Doubt… insert a line break. Plot!**

Tony groaned, faintly distinguishing JARVIS' concerned tones from the fading ringing in his ears. He was lucky enough to crash with the suit on, but the others had no such protection. It was only thanks to Steve's yell that the four of them had dove back in time.

 _Sir… Ah, you are awake, sir?_

"Ugh…" Tony moaned, checking the health statistics on his suit, not that they really mattered. His everything hurt, and nothing was going to change that. There went his beautiful vision of instant sleep. "JARV—five more minutes…"

 _I would suggest you make it snappy, sir. It seems that Agent Barton is in need of medical assistance._

The moment those words hit his ears, Tony sprang into action, finding Clint amongst the rubble. He looked terrible, but the worst part was his left foot, which was twisted the wrong way. Tony was joined by Natasha, who had shaken off the grogginess in favor of concern for her partner.

"Get him back to the Tower," she practically ordered Tony. When he hesitated, she reassured, "I can handle Steve. Go." Not needing to be told thrice, he scooped his teammate up, flying him back to the Tower.

The rush of adrenaline began to fade as he collapsed into a chair, letting Bruce work on Clint. Since the Battle of New York, the man had been dedicating his spare time to learning to become a doctor in medicine rather than in science. So far, he'd been doing well, but his "patients" were few (most were sent to the SHIELD infirmary) and his experience small. Bruce was a determined man, and did the best he could, setting Clint's ankle with a sickening _snap_.

Eventually, Bruce, seeing Tony's fatigue, dismissed him to his room after checking him over for serious injuries. The billionaire went reluctantly, but promptly passed out the moment he hit the pillows on his enormous bed.

 _Sir._

Tony groaned, burying his face into the warmth and comfort of his pillow.

 _Wake up, sir._

"Nooooo," he whined, a drawn-out complaint that would've earned him a slap upside the head from multiple teammates, but even JARVIS had to admit that it was impressive.

… _I will fetch Miss Potts, sir._

"Fiiinnneee," he grumbled, rolling out of bed and hitting the floor with a muted _thump_. Changing quickly, he left the dirty clothes on the bed.

 _The team is waiting for you in the common room._

JARVIS' voice was soft, as though he was trying to ease Tony into something. Feeling slightly suspicious, he stepped into the elevator. Upon reaching the room, he found the team gathered on various chairs, looking solemn.

"What happened?" Tony asked, searching the faces uncertainly. "Did Coulson die again? Did Rudolph the Leather-Clad Reindeer come back?" He did a quick headcount, coming up short of two: Steve and Thor. "Where's the Ice Pop?"

The team's grave gazes met his, looking devastated. "Tony," Natasha said gently, a solitary tear marking her otherwise untouched face, "Steve's… he's gone, Tony, I…"

The billionaire's hesitant smile melted into a look of total shock and despair. " _What_? No, no, that's not—" He broke off, sinking into the sofa, and staring vacantly into space. For once in his life, Anthony Edward Stark was utterly speechless.

"I looked for him, b-but he … his head hit the wall, and… and…" Natasha began to sob in earnest, joining Tony on the couch. Bruce held his head in his hands. Clint sat frozen, staring at his bandaged ankle with desperate intensity.

Tony stood, utterly silent, and left the room numbly, retiring to his workshop. _No, no. He can't be dead. He's not gone. Not yet. He's just missing._

"JARVIS, bring up the modified uniform designs." _We'll find him. He's probably almost back now. It wasn't_ that _far away, right? Right?! He's not dead._

After staring blankly at his own designs for a few minutes, he broke down, weeping almost silently in his isolation. DUM-E clicked and patted Tony's shoulder clumsily for comfort as he let out his grief.

 **When In Doubt… insert another line break. Sadness!**

The dead man in question was sulking over being the one to fetch the coffee.

It was absolutely ridiculous in his mind. In his time, they had cause to long for the bitter drink, as there was a shortage, and it was a rarity. Now, however, it was in total abundance, and he couldn't fathom why it was so necessary to the young people he saw around these days.

Of course, he had plenty of time to ponder this while standing uncomfortably in a seemingly endless line of Starbucks customers. He carried with him a cellphone (which he had no intention of using) and a list of the extensive—not to mention expensive—drinks and foods he was to buy with one of Tony's credit cards.

It was easy to assume Tony had no knowledge of the purchasing methods.

It seemed unfair in his mind that he should go get the coffee and doughnuts and cake pops. After all, besides Clint, he was the least covered during the explosion. Natasha could easily have gotten it herself.

He continued to inwardly grumble as the never-ending line moved an inch. It was going to be a long day.

 **When In Doubt… change the POV. Confusion!**

As Tony left the room, the trio waited a few seconds before dropping their facade and huddling together to discuss.

"All right," Clint cheered quietly, wincing slightly as his injured ankle twitched. "Phase One is complete."

"I'm still not sure about this," said Bruce softly, looking down. "What if this really hurts him?"

"He deserves it," the archer dismissed, waving a hand nonchalantly. "Besides, we chose the guy Tony hates the most. If anything, he'll throw a party."

"Fine. When is Cap supposed to come back?"

Natasha gave him a look. "It's a coffee run, Bruce. It'll take him twenty minutes at most," she assured.

Bruce didn't look convinced, but let the matter drop.

Meanwhile, poor Tony was staring blankly at a wall, and occasionally taking a swig from the bottle beside him. He continued in this fashion until the bottle was empty, when he promptly smashed it against the wall he was facing, and repeated the process.

JARVIS watched silently, torn between his creator's grief and the possible reparation of their connection. _Besides,_ the AI thought to himself with an intangible smile, _maybe Anthony will come out of this happier with a strengthened bond with the captain._

Tony hadn't spoken since he heard the news, and seemed to be stuck in a cycle of shock, grief, and consuming anger. It was rather surprising to the others when Bruce decided to check up on him.

"Tony?" he called, peering though the glass door. He got no response. Gently, he asked, "JARVIS, could you let me in?"

" _Under normal circumstances, I would,"_ the voice replied somberly, _"but I fear for both Anthony's and your health if I did."_

Bruce sighed at the refusal, looking up at the ceiling as he did.

"Please."

Bruce was Tony's best friend in the Tower, and the first of the Avengers to genuinely care about him. He didn't ask or order JARVIS for access, but the request softened the metaphorical heart of the artificial intelligence, who opened the door silently and continued his watch.

Tony heard the footsteps, but didn't bother to acknowledge Bruce's presence except for a pause in his destruction of empty bottles. The intruder sat next to him, placing a comforting hand on his knee. Tony made no move to shrug it off, but refused to speak. The pair sat there for a good twenty minutes before Bruce felt his phone vibrate.

 _You have one message from Natasha Romanoff: Steve isn't back yet. Keep him distracted._

Frantically angling his phone away from the billionaire's prying eyes, he typed a response.

 _I'm with him. Get Steve quickly. I don't want to be around when_ Tony _goes Code Green._

The man in question shifted, looking over at his friend. "What's that?" he asked in a monotone completely devoid of his usual flamboyancy.

"Natasha was checking up on us," Bruce lied, feeling that at least he was partially telling the truth: Nat was asking about _him_ , at least. It seemed that Tony was improving. After all, he was talking now, albeit in a voice less human than JARVIS'.

After another ten minutes of silence and the disposal of the strewn fragments of glass, Bruce coaxed his friend off the couch, and into his room.

Halfway through the hall, the emotionally exhausted billionaire slumped onto Bruce's side, the other scientist just managing to catch him in his unconscious state. With much effort, as Tony was unusually heavy for a man so small, Bruce lugged the sleeping man into his room, dumping him unceremoniously onto the bed.

It was practically untouched, as Tony almost never used it. Looking around, Bruce noticed the small photographs in one frame on a nightstand and a sizeable window that nearly covered a wall. The cleanliness was definitely a testament to the genius' habit of sleeping in his workshop.

Meanwhile, in his sleep-daze, Tony had managed to splay himself out on the bed, limbs angled awkwardly, and it didn't look like a very comfortable sleeping position. Bruce just left with a sigh, hoping to catch Steve soon. It was time to put an end to Tony's misery.

 **When In Doubt… supply awkward humor. Efficiency!**

Until that day, Steve thought it was impossible to spell his name incorrectly.

He was wrong.

Finally retrieving the stack of pastries and piping hot cups, the captain awkwardly stumbled his way out of the coffee shop, concluding that they were evil places and should never be approached without proper preparation and reinforcements.

He did his best to hail a cab, to no avail. Even when he set the coffee down, he couldn't seem to find an empty taxi. Luckily, he did have a metro card on him, and the subway wasn't far.

It was only until he reached the turnstile that Steve had trouble balancing his load. Unfortunately, it were simply too much of a burden, and, backtracking, he set it down by a few strangers huddling against the wall with cardboard signs and watching the man with desperate, wild eyes.

He smiled at the muffled thanks and continued, feeling lighter and in a considerably better mood. Of course, Steve couldn't have one moment of satisfaction without life giving him a nice slap across the face, and so that is how he found himself on the one train that had broken down mid-transit.

The poor man was very close to losing his cool, and the others in his car weren't much better. A fistfight had already broken out within the first five minutes, but he had quickly put an end to that. Steve kept himself distracted by thinking about his team. He hoped that Tony would be awake by the time he returned. All that Nat had mentioned before sending him on his merry way was that the inventor had passed out after getting Clint to safety.

He was pulled abruptly into reality by a force he was well acquainted with: gravity. The train lurched forward, causing him to tip forwards and nearly smother the elderly man sitting beside him. He was luckier than some, as was evidenced by a few raised voices in the back and the distinct sound of flesh hitting flesh. It was sadly familiar to the captain, who managed to zone out and nearly miss his stop.

All in all, things weren't looking too bright when he finally reached the Tower, especially since the sun was already beginning to set. Between the traffic, endless lines, and train accident, the hours had slipped away with nothing to show for it. Steve felt relieved to be home and rather disappointed in himself for failing in his duty as errand boy.

 _Oh well,_ he thought as he approached the common floor. _It's not like Tony would care, but I'll try to pay him back anyways. At least the food's going to those who need it._ It was a small comfort, and the captain mentally prepared himself for coffee-deprived Avengers.

When he stepped out of the elevator, he was greeted with two concerned faces and one on the verge of panic.

"Steve!" the three exclaimed, rushing over.

"Didn't you get our calls? We've been worried all afternoon! Tony—"

Steve spoke over all of them, realizing, "I left my phone with the stuff. Sorry, Nat. I'm fine, but what about Tony?"

A shattered mug answered him, and he looked up to see an ashen-faced billionaire, staring at the scene in utter shock.

"…He's not dead," Tony said after a stretch of silence.

"Who's not dead?" Steve asked, and the others took that opportunity to edge towards the elevator.

"Wait, guys, what—" The captain was engulfed in a crushing hug by the shorter man, who was trembling. "Tony, what's wrong? What happened?"

"You… you… dead… and I…" Tony nearly sobbed into Steve's shirt, tightening his grip on him.

"I'm not dead. Shhh, it's okay. I'm here, okay? I just went to get coffee. There was an accident, and I was delayed. That's all," Steve said reassuringly, returning the embrace. "Who told you I was dead?"

Tony just buried his head into his teammate, shaking his head. He could get his revenge later. Right now, all he card about was that Steve was alive. He was okay.

He couldn't exactly say the same for his other teammates, though. He actually almost felt sorry for the tirade he was about to unleash on them.

 **When In Doubt… write an epilogue. Happy Endings!**

The joke was on Tony.

Sure, dying his teammates' hair in a splendid rainbow wasn't super original, but Tony had made the dye to be bright on all colors of hair, and it didn't wash out easily. Fortunately for the others, he chose the day of the Gay Pride Parade.

…so maybe it wasn't the best plan. What could he say?

Even Thor—when he returned in his Asgardian glory—got the hair treatment. Eventually, they all did it, parading down the streets with the best of them, the captain and inventor arm-in-arm.

It drew some attention, but looking down at Tony, Steve had never seen him happier in his life. The smiles all around were infectious, and the leader couldn't help but grin along as he practically bounced his way along. Everything, it seemed, had been forgiven.

…except for when the dye didn't wash out.

 **AHAHAHAH- I regret nothing.**


End file.
